


The Northern Girl

by sassyclassy_ass



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Family, Gen, Ghosts, Magic, Sansa doesn't understand her powers, Storms, Warging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:49:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8331877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassyclassy_ass/pseuds/sassyclassy_ass
Summary: If perhaps they had prayed to the right Gods, she wouldn't have strange alien thoughts twining around her bones like ivy. In which, in the midst of a storm Sansa looks for ghosts





	

It is a cold night that day, the type of cold that crept into beds and slithered under the doors and snagged fingers into human skin. The snow fell unwavering in its force, drowning the world in silence and white. It was not the type of snow one witnesses when Summer still lives on. It is a strange type of cold. The type that could almost make you believe that magic might exist outside children’s dreams. The storms raged and howled, creating such a clamour that it was easy to think that the castle would fall under the weight of its sound. It seemed that Winter was well on its way to Westeros. 

All in the midst of this great roar one small child slept peacefully, dreaming dreams not meant for small human girls. The little girl let out a small sigh and woke up far too quietly for a girl of one and ten. If there was anyone other than the Northern winds and Northern Gods to see, one might have questioned the sudden screech of birds or the way this little girl opened her mouth to emit a sound that would never come out of her mouth. But there was no one in this room who didn’t understand the strange occurrences. No one but this little girl who had yet to swap the discovery of endless plains of white for this room of four walls. 

Sansa Stark was a normal girl. She learned her lessons and practiced her courtesies as all good well-behaved girls did. If she stared far too long at the empty dark corner of the room as if greeting a friend or all the lemon cakes got eaten no matter how well the cook hid it no one mentioned it. All were too wise to mention the little oddities that made Lord Stark’s oldest daughter, all including Sansa. There was nothing that a few extra prayers to the Seven or a couple of extra lessons with the Septa that wouldn’t fix it. This was the group thought of the people of Winterfell. Perhaps if they had prayed to the right Gods this would be a different story but no one had thought to do that and now this little girl had alien thoughts twining around her bones like ivy. 

Sansa Stark woke up with a start. There was a moment of blurriness and confusion. The world suddenly seemed to grow and shrink all at once. She was met with colours other than white but surely there were other colours? Colours beyond what she was seeing? It confused her and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why. She tried to remember her dream but it was like grasping at water. There were inklings of something that pointed to more, small and shining but whatever flashes of memory quickly fizzled out too fast for her to recognize anything but blurry shapes and colours. 

She frowned at the sight of her dilemma. It would be almost impossible to go back to sleep now. It was still dark outside and it seemed like the day would not come for some time. The Northern winds let out a loud screech as if it were some foul ghoul from one of Old Nan’s tales. Now that she was awake and aware she now felt fear. She knew that it was no ghastly creature howling outside the castle walls but still she shivered. She was no child. She could not just creep into her Lady Mother’s or Robb’s room. She briefly considered Arya but she was still mad at her sister. Arya had gotten mud and ruined her embroidery. The Septa had said it was her loveliest yet and Jeyne and Beth had stared at her with jealousy and awe. She would find it hard to forgive her wild sister for this and even if Arya hadn’t angered her so, she was still wary of going. Arya would only laugh and grumble.   
She suddenly wished that she was a little girl. The Septa wouldn’t grumble if she shared a room with her mother and no one would laugh, but as a Lady, she could not so easily get away with such frivolity. 

The wind once again lets out a huge howl that seemed to shake the whole of the castle. She shrieked at the sound and before she could stop herself she was out of her bed and out of her room. The castle was silent as she tread carefully through its halls. It was as if she was the only living thing there and in some cases she was, or she would be very soon. She didn’t like going down here when it was so dark. She didn’t like going down here at all. The silence was piercing and almost scarier than the howling wind but her fear and her certainty of imminent safety pushed her on. She didn’t always acknowledge it but she was a Stark too and the walls of Winterfell and its ghosts would protect her.  
It was this thought that made the halls of her home seem less sinister and big and this thought that had her going down into the crypts. The crypts had always terrified her but the presence of her family soothed all her fears.

“What are you doing here?” A harsh raspy voice demanded. She sighed in relief and turned to face him. Before her stood her uncle, a pale scowling silhouette. Her uncle was a tall man, if it were not for the hideous bruise around his neck many would have considered him handsome. He did not talk much but he always told her where to find the lemon cakes and showed her the best ways to escape trouble. It had been a long time since she had felt fear at his expense, at any of their expenses.

“Sorry Ser.” Brandon rolled his eyes at her title.” I couldn’t sleep.” Her uncle gives her a hard look but sighs and moves out of the way. He didn’t need to; she could easily walk through him but it seemed unbearably cruel to remind him of his death, not when he seemed so happy as of late. 

“Come along then. Your great-great-great- aunt will at least be happy to see you,” he grouses but she can’t help but frown and be hurt at his words. He seems so angry and upset at her arrival. Out all of the ghosts, she thinks she loves her uncle the most. 

“Aren’t you? Happy to see me?” Uncle Brandon softens the same way he always does when she leaves flowers for him or begs for a story.

He lets out a sad sigh. ”You’re too young to understand,” is his only response. She frowns at his vague answer. She’s a lady, nearly a woman. She doesn’t think she won’t understand. Perhaps it’s for the best. Sometimes the ghosts will give cryptic answers that she will puzzle on for days until she decides that she has better things to do than to attempt to solve some strange morbid riddle.

That’s something she’s noticed. The ghosts love riddles. They will give her one and then she will give one in response. Sometimes she can guess the answers, most of the time she can’t. The ghosts always get her riddles. Perhaps all of this is something she will understand when she’s dead.  
She sees them huddled in a group. They stand tall and strong and she feels herself settle. It was hard to feel fear when she knew them to be scarier than any imagined monsters. 

“My dearest Sansa, it is so sweet to see you again,” Sarra Stark cries out. At the sound of her name, the ghosts rose up, crying out louder than any Northern Storm. She felt a relieved smile pull at her lips. This is why she came. The ghosts are loud in their joy and drowned out any fears. How could she be scared when there were great knights and ladies right before her with stories of love and dragons and adventure? 

“Would you please finish your story?” She asks shyly. She sees Sara smile  
.  
Hours later the castle will wake with an uproar. Hours later Catelyn Stark will wonder into her eldest daughter’s room only to find it empty. Hours later the inhabitants of the Winterfell will work itself into a furor. The eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark is a good normal girl. Good and normal girls do not just disappear. Sometime later when the ghosts have no more stories for the night and when the living have need of this strange little Northern girl someone will think to check the crypts for no reason known to them. They will find Sansa Stark curled up by the feet of the man who should have been Lord of the castle and who was wild and loved and dead way before his time. They will not ask why she is there because everyone is far too wise to ask. They will put it down to her oddities and they will pray to the Seven that she grows out of them and they will always pray to the wrong Gods. For now, though, Sansa will listen to their stories and Brandon Stark, her most beloved of the ghosts will smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I hope you enjoyed this


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